


The Aquarium

by daringdaringdaring



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Depression, F/M, Foster Care, Gen, Human Experimentation, I'm Bad At Summaries, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Original Fiction, Past Child Abuse, Science Fiction, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:06:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daringdaringdaring/pseuds/daringdaringdaring
Summary: Lindsay was amazing. She was beautiful, and funny, and rich. And she had chosen Dean to be friends with, which he couldn't be more grateful for, especially after how awful the past few years of his life had been. A new friend was exactly what he needed, even if she did have secrets. That was okay. It was a friend.-Okay, folks. This story does have dark themes, but nothing detailed and nothing too gruesome. And listen, I know this is a horrible summary. If you read this I would legitimately be grateful for summary suggestions, they're so frickin hard.





	The Aquarium

Four months ago, Dean Wilmoth had gotten a haircut. It was a sort of moment of revolution for him, and a moment of absolute joy for his mom, who had been begging him to get it cut for a year. Now, though, after four months, it was beginning to fall on his face and slip out from behind his ears, and get in the way every single day. He had really liked it longer, but long hair had bad memories all tangled up in it.

Cutting his hair had been a little like taking his own identity away from himself. It was a false pretense of recovery. It said “look, it’s a new me, and I’m moving on” but what it actually meant was “look at me pretending to be someone I’m not because I still can’t stand myself.”

Then, the real recovery began. And so his hair growth became a sort of measurement, and right now, everything about life was frustrating, including his hair.

At the moment, he was sitting in a cafe, across town from where he lived, sipping on a chai latte made with oat milk. It was pretty peaceful. His phone was turned off, and he was trying to get through the second chapter of a book he used to love when he was about fourteen. It was still as good as he remembered, but it was difficult to focus. He hadn’t read a book in quite a while. His therapist thought it would be a good idea to reconnect with his younger self, though, so here he was.

Just as he was finishing the chapter, the little bell above the cafe door rang. The place wasn’t very popular, and he could honestly tell why. The girl behind the counter had stood texting someone for a few minutes before even noticing he was there, and she had rolled her eyes when he ordered. And then, to top it all off, his muffin had been stale. This was the only other customer that had come in since he’d been there.

He glanced up but didn’t want to stare, so he looked back down, brushing his hair back… again. A young woman walked up to the counter. Her voice rang out, light and shimmery, ordering one black coffee and a blueberry muffin. She would likely be disappointed by the muffin, he knew.

There was quite a contrast with this customer and the girl behind the counter. The customer was obviously very charismatic. Charming, controlled, and almost… regal. She appeared untainted. He hair was long, at her waist, and strawberry blonde. The girl at the counter, however, was sluggish, and droopy. Her lethargy had been trying to drain Dean’s energy since he’d been there. She had a messy bob, dyed black, and a slouch, and her eyes couldn’t leave her phone screen for more than a few seconds at a time, it seemed.

After she received her order, the customer looked around the cafe, leaning on one foot. When she spotted Dean, she smiled to herself, and then walked over to him. 

Well, he couldn’t keep pretending not to notice her now, because that would be awkward, so he put his book down and smiled at her hesitantly as she took the seat across from him.

“Uh, hi.” He said.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She asked, already sitting.

“No, I don’t mind.” He replied. What was he going to say, yes, in fact, I do, how dare you?

“Good. Before I left today I said I was going to make a friend today. And, well, this is my last stop before home and you’re the only person here, so it looks like you’re my victim.”

She said it very dryly, and Dean let out a nervous chuckle. He didn’t have any friends. He didn’t know if he really knew how to act. His hands were fidgeting under the table.

“What’s your name?” She asked. “I’m Lindsey.”

“Dean. Lindsay is a nice name.” He looked down as he said it. 

“Thanks.” Lindsey laughed.

There was a silence, and Dean avoided eye contact. His stomach was beginning to feel a little queasy, and he wanted to say something, anything to make the situation a little less awkward, but he couldn’t think of anything. Even if he could, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to open his mouth and combat the deafening silence. 

Lindsey made a face and checked her phone. “I have about fifteen minutes. So, what sort of things do you do around here? I’m a little bit new to town.”

Dean froze for a moment, then started speaking. “Well, I’m not- I’m not exactly the best person to ask. I don’t really get out much.” He was turning red, he just knew it. This was why he didn’t talk to people. And once again his hair was falling in his face. He kept having to push it back. 

“Hey, that’s okay.” Lindsey said, tilting her head. “Well, what are you interested in then?”

“Oh, not much, really. I sort of like architecture, and, uh, obscure historical facts? Which, I know, isn’t very much to work with. Music is nice too… and movies.”

Lindsey laughed again, and Dean smiled halfheartedly. She was laughing at him.

“I think that’s pretty interesting.” She said. “What kind of obscure historical facts? Give me your weirdest one.”

Dean pursed his lips in thought. “Well, in 1740 there was a sort of secret society formed called the Order of the Pug. The pug was chosen as a symbol of loyalty. New members had to wear dog collars and scratch at the door to get it.” Lindsey stared at him in disbelief. “Oh, and it was started by Roman Catholics.”

“Okay.” Lindsay said, leaning back. “That really is weird.”

Dean’s heart fluttered at the approval. But then there was a lull in the conversation and he started fidgeting again.

Lindsey checked her phone, and sighed. “Well, my time is up. I need to get home. But it was nice talking to you, Dean. Could I get your number? Maybe we could go see a movie sometime. Or just talk.”

Dean stumbled over his words, but he agreed, although in the back of his mind he wondered if she was hitting on him. Maybe she really was just looking for a friend, but he’d always been sort of oblivious. He would run his mind in circles trying to figure it out. He’d have to tell his little brother about it later. Jonathan always knew when someone was trying to flirt.

He got out his phone, and his stomach dropped. He’d forgotten that his phone was turned off. In fact, his phone had been turned off since early that morning when he had left, without telling his mom where he was going. Holding his breath, he turned it back on, waiting for the flood of notifications. He’d needed to get away for the day, no contact, but his mom just couldn’t understand that, so he had left before she was up, without telling her where he was going, and he’d turned his phone off. He couldn’t stand her constant paranoia about him.

Just as expected, he had six missed calls, and seventeen text messages. He opened the ones from his brother.

\- Mom’s freaking out, where are you?

\- Seriously

\- She won’t leave me alone, please just let her know you’re okay

\- DUDE

\- Okay, now I’m getting worried. You okay?

Dean felt sort of bad, but at the same time he was frustrated. Why couldn’t they just trust him? He didn’t stop to look at his mom’s messages, since Lindsey was waiting. When he looked back up at her, she was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Everything okay?” She asked.

“Oh. Yeah. Just my family. They’re a little paranoid sometimes. They think I’m gonna go off and kill myself or something.”

“Oh.” She went quiet, and Dean began to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have said that. But then she got out her phone, started a new contact, and handed it to him. “Just put in your info, and I’ll send you a text.”

He did, and she sent:

\- It’s Lindsey :)

She stood and began walking out, stopping by the door to smile back at him. “Nice to meet you, Dean.” Then she left, and all the life in the cafe went with her, leaving the echoing of the door bell and a hollow feeling in Dean’s stomach. Sucking in a deep breath, he hit the call button for his mother.

He could immediately feel her icy glare through the phone without a word being said.

“You need to let me know where you’re going. You can’t just leave without telling me, and then not answer my calls, or my text messages. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” She didn’t sound worried. Her words were clipped and propelled by aggression. She sounded angry.

“Mom. I need my space. I’m not a little kid, I’ll be nineteen next month. I don’t need someone keeping tabs on me at all times.”

“You know you do. How am I supposed to know you aren't off getting drugs or, or, or jumping off a bridge!” Her voice had gone shrill.

“Mom. Can we leave the past in the past? Please?” Dean tried to keep his voice steady and low, but he felt something frantic rising in him. “Can you please just try to trust me?”

“How am I supposed to do that? Just come home, Dean."

Dean hung up and closed his eyes. He leaned forward with both elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. Then, afterwards, he took out his phone, went to his messages, deleted all of the ones from his mom, and started one to send to Lindsey.

\- Hey. It was nice talking to you today.

He didn't send it, deleted it, then pocketed his phone and headed home.


End file.
